


In Hearts Left Behind

by Elfflame



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Bottom Draco, Community: pornish_pixies, Incest, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-02-05
Updated: 2008-02-05
Packaged: 2017-10-19 04:38:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/196988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elfflame/pseuds/Elfflame
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Scorpius receives a present from his grandfather after his grandfather’s death.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Hearts Left Behind

**Author's Note:**

> Title altered slightly from this verse: “To live in hearts we leave behind/Is not to die.” from Thomas Campbell. The story itself was inspired by Wolfish_cat, and is dedicated to her, as well, for being such an incredible inspiration to my muse. Also, huge thanks to Ceria for betaing this for me. Written for Pornish_pixies's [Magical Devices Challenge](http://asylums.insanejournal.com/pornish_pixies/1424.html).
> 
> The story has been translated to Vietnamese by Katalay Malfoy [here](https://meomeoluoi0911.wordpress.com/hp-dong-nhan/hp-in-hearts-left-behind-fanfic-malfoycest/).

Lucius Malfoy died when Scorpius was sixteen.

It came as no shock to anyone. He'd been dying for months with some sort of withering disease. The healers said it was because he'd used so much Dark magic. Scorpius's father said they were just using that as an excuse not to treat him. That they didn't want to be bothered healing a Death Eater. Scorpius hoped he was wrong. He'd seen the Dark Mark on his father's own arm once. Draco had caught him staring and the moment had stretched out for too long before he had looked away again, rolling down the sleeve to hide the Mark once more. Scorpius didn't want to see his own father fading in the same way as Lucius. He loved his grandfather, but losing his father would be devastating, especially in such a long, drawn-out way.

Lucius's death happened shortly before Easter holiday, so Headmistress McGonagall excused him from the classes for the rest of that remaining week so that he could return to the Manor to help his father with the arrangements. Not that there was much to arrange. Draco and Lucius had taken care of most of it when they'd found out there was nothing the healers could (would) do to help him.

Instead, upon arriving home, Draco took him up to his study and handed him a small wooden chest. It was very heavy for its size, but Scorpius made certain not to show that he was having trouble holding it.

"Father…wanted you to have this. He's been working on it ever since…he found out." Draco looked away, moving back to his desk to avoid his son's gaze. "I know this must be difficult, Scorpius…"

"I'm…okay. I'll miss him, but…" _I'm just glad it wasn't you._ He couldn't say it out loud, of course. Draco had always been close to his father. All he could do now was be here for him.

"Good boy," Draco said distractedly, turning back to him and patting his shoulder. "Why don't you go take that to your room? I'm sure you want to know what's in it."

The truth was, Scorpius would rather stay with his father, but he also knew Draco would tell him it wasn't necessary, or that he needed time alone. So instead, he nodded. "Yes, father."

When he got to his room, though, he didn't open the chest. It likely contained some sort of Malfoy heirloom meant to pass from grandfather to grandson when the grandson came of age, or some such nonsense. It could wait. He set it carefully on his dresser, then moved and sat on his bed, staring at it blankly.

What, exactly, was he supposed to do here for a week and a half? He and father were all who were left now. Scorpius's mother had died in his third year, and his grandmother when he was small. He was all his father had. How could he help him when he didn't know where to start?

He ignored the box for two days, trying to find ways to get through to his father, spending as much time with Draco as he would allow. It worried him to see him so sad. Normally, when his father was upset, he got snappish and avoided others. This time he just seemed…lost. He hadn't even been this sad when Scorpius's mother had died. He offered to play chess, to go walking with him, or flying. And sometimes Draco seemed to wake from his trance. Usually, though, it was simply to say that he didn't have time for that right now. Other times, he didn't even acknowledge the suggestion, and continued to stare off into space. It hurt Scorpius to watch.

So finally, Scorpius retreated to his room to give him space. Maybe after the funeral?

Of course, alone in his room, all he could see was that chest. Still, he avoided opening it for another day, though thoughts of what might be inside it filled his head. Was it some dark artifact that his grandfather wanted to hide from even Draco? Perhaps it was his own personal copy of the family history? Though why he would need that when there was a copy in the library, Scorpius had no clue.

His pondering on what might be in the box kept him tossing and turning all night, and finally, the next evening, he couldn't help himself any longer.

The wood itself was thick hardwood, which had its own heft, but it was what was inside it that had made it so ponderous. There were two levels. On top lay a segmented wood tray, each space filled with thin glass bottles that contained a silvery substance, and underneath that…Lucius's Pensieve.

Scorpius had seen it before. He'd even seen his grandfather use it once, and knew how it worked. Which also made him realize just what was in those bottles—memories. But why would his grandfather give him a present like this? There were a lot of memories in the box, after all. What was there that he wanted to share with Scorpius that he hadn't been able to do while he was alive?

Pulling out a bottle, Scorpius swirled around the memory inside it, wondering if he could see what it was without using the Pensieve. It wasn’t giving up its secrets, though. The only face he saw was his own, oddly reflected in the moving liquid.

He set it back in the chest, not quite ready to face what Lucius wanted to show him, and settled down for the night, having odd dreams of Lucius with the Dark Lord…Lucius as the Dark Lord…his own father bowing before the creature they had served…Lucius being cursed by his Master for failing him…Draco screaming…

Scorpius woke with a shout, then leaned forward and glowered at the chest where it still sat on his dresser. If the memories were anything like that… But why would his grandfather give him memories of that sort? A warning? It was something neither his father nor his grandfather ever talked about, though he had heard whispers in the common room about how deeply they had been involved in the war…

And what if they weren't bad memories, but good ones? His father's birth? His own, perhaps? Certainly things he couldn't remember on his own, but again, nothing Lucius would have been so cagey about…

It was the middle of the night, but it was obvious that there was no way he was going to be able to get back to sleep. Not until he knew for sure.

He slipped out of the bed and over to the chest, opening it once more, and pulling out the bottles. He set the shelf containing them aside, then pulled out the Pensieve. It was quite heavy, but not as much as Scorpius had expected. He set it on his desk, then turned back to the bottles. There didn't seem to be any particular directions as far as what to watch first, so he chose one from the front row, then poured it into the stone basin.

The memory swirled for a moment, then went still, and eventually Scorpius prodded at it with his wand. He knew better than to just touch a random memory. Immediately, an image sprang up above the swirling silver liquid. A couple. Fucking. Scorpius had seen wizarding porn before. After all, he was sixteen. But what really shocked him was that they were both men. His grandfather…and… His eyes went wide in shock as he realized who the second man—no, not a man, but a boy—was. His own father.

He stumbled back from the desk, knocking the chair in his haste to get away, causing it to catch the edge of the Pensive, and tipping it to the floor. Scorpius was too stunned to be upset at the loss of the memory, though at that moment, he couldn't quite imagine ever being upset by that. Why had his grandfather chosen to give him a memory of _that_?

He glanced at the remaining bottles, wondering if they all contained such memories, then decided he was better off not knowing. He righted the Pensieve, cleaned up the remains of the memory with a spell, and set everything back in the chest. He wouldn't open it again. He couldn't.

Scorpius didn't sleep that night.

In the morning, he dragged himself down to the family dining room, where Draco was reading the Prophet. For once Scorpius didn't bother to try to distract him. He just served himself a plate of eggs and bacon from the sideboard, and then poured himself a large mug of coffee. He'd need it if he wasn't going to fall asleep in his breakfast.

"You shouldn't be drinking that, Scorpius. You're too young." It was the first sentence Draco had directed his way unbidden since Scorpius had arrived home for the holiday.

The problem was, he could barely manage to meet his father's gaze after what he'd seen in the Pensieve. "What?"

"The coffee, Scorpius. Don't make a habit of it, all right?" Draco turned back to his paper, and Scorpius slumped in his chair, feeling a bit relieved, then straightening before his father saw fit to chastise him again.

Scorpius spent the rest of the day avoiding both his father and his room, though he was unable to escape the image the Pensieve had placed in his memory, revolving over the silver surface. Why would Lucius want him to see this? It made no sense. It was…disgusting. Incest!

But even knowing that…there'd been something beautiful about it, too. Every time he stopped to think about it, he saw Lucius kissing Draco, their hands entwined. The rhythmic way they'd moved together, pale skin against pale… It was hard to convince himself he didn't want to see more of it.

He groaned, then shook his head. This was leading him nowhere. The memory he'd spilled was tormenting him. What he still couldn't understand was what Lucius expected him to do with this knowledge. The knowledge that his father and grandfather might well have cared more for each other than for their wives.

There was also the fact that Draco had been so young. At least Scorpius's own age. Had he been truly enjoying himself? Had Lucius forced him? Lucius and Draco had always seemed so close, and while Scorpius couldn't be sure of it, having only watched the scene for seconds before knocking it over, he thought perhaps there had been some pleasure in it for his father, at least. He could recall the arch of Draco's back as Lucius had thrust into him, and his eager response to Lucius's kiss. But was that him just wanting to believe the best of his grandfather he could in this situation?

It took him another day before he gave in to curiosity. Perhaps he'd just mistaken what he'd seen? Perhaps the memory wasn't of Draco. He hadn't watched the entire thing, after all. Perhaps none of the other memories would be anything like the first. Deep inside, though, he couldn't help but want to see the image again. Or something like it. Even if he couldn't quite admit it to himself.

That night, after Scorpius was sure his father was in bed—well after midnight, he must be asleep, right? He opened the box once more. It took him a long time to choose a bottle. It wasn't as though he knew what each bottle contained, but he still wavered for quite a while, then finally pulled out two, promising himself that either way, he would watch both all the way through, no matter what they contained. And this time, he'd make sure not to spill them. Despite himself, he found he rather regretted losing the first now.

He tried to ignore the hopeful thrill that made his stomach flutter as he poured the first into the Pensieve. He swirled the memory with his wand, and watched as two forms appeared, once more entangled. Once more, the two figures moved together, Draco arching up into each of Lucius's thrusts. This time, they were older—it had to be after the war. Draco barely looked a teen any longer.

Scorpius moved closer, despite himself, trying to see the expression on his father's face. He'd recognized him the first time, but he'd had no more than a glimpse before he'd knocked it all over. Now he wanted to see if this were pain or pleasure for his father.

Draco's eyes were closed, his back arching as he pressed up into his father's thrusts. Scorpius couldn't recall hearing anything in the first memory, but now he heard his father's moan as Lucius thrust into him, the sound echoing strangely up from the silver liquid, more tinny than he had expected a sound from the Pensieve, and reminding him that this was nothing more than a memory.

It didn't stop him from examining the scene from every angle, watching Lucius's fingers trace over Draco's lips, down his neck, the expression on both their faces speaking loudly about their feelings for one another. Despite his quick thrusts, Lucius's eyes were soft and passionate, and the way he touched Draco…it was as though he were touching a china doll.

When Draco opened his eyes, the look he gave Lucius was complete adoration. As though there was no one else in the world but Lucius. The thought made Scorpius frown, and when the scene faded, he was still trying to decide why that bothered him. He carefully stored the memory in its bottle once more before opening the next.

This started less abruptly than the first two. Lucius was in his study, working on something Scorpius couldn't quite make out. The door opened, and Draco came in. This was a younger Draco. No more than thirteen or fourteen, from what Scorpius could tell.

"Father," he greeted Lucius.

Lucius sat back and smiled at him. "Draco. Did you have a good time with your friends?"

"Yes. But I missed you." He pouted a bit, then moved closer, and Lucius drew away from the desk, smiling as his son settled onto his lap.

"You know you cannot stay here with me all summer. People might start to think that I am doing horribly wicked things to you."

"Well, you have been slacking on that," Draco said with a smirk. "But you could always make up for lost time…" He squirmed in Lucius's lap, and Lucius took a long, slow breath. Scorpius could see he was struggling to control himself.

"Draco…your mother is at home."

"So hex the door," Draco whispered, a wicked grin spreading across his face. "She'll just think you're busy with business she's not to interrupt. Which is true," he added, his grin widening now as he reached for the buttons of Lucius's shirt.

Lucius looked about to protest, then sighed, pointing his wand to the door and casting several spells on it. Scorpius started at that. He could remember several times he had attempted to find his father or grandfather where the doors to their studies had been hexed in much a similar way. Had they been doing this then?

The thought distracted him for a moment, and when he focused on them once more, Draco was completely nude, and Lucius's robes had been opened to reveal his chest and cock. Draco's lips were tracing their way down Lucius's body, and he looked up at him, giving him another of those wicked smirks before his lips closed around Lucius's cock.

Scorpius had seen girls give blokes blowjobs in the porn he'd watched, but this… He'd never really considered two men together. He'd had no clue how hot it would be. He bit back a moan, unaware that he'd reached down to stroke himself at the sight. The image had never been something he'd thought of before, but now, watching as Draco swallowed around his father's cock, making Lucius dig his fingers into the arms of the chair…it was the most erotic image he had ever witnessed in his life.

The image was so bewitching, that Scorpius didn't even realize he was reaching out to touch them until he was falling into the memory, and sat up, gasping, looking around before focusing on them once more.

Draco had moved back into his father's lap, and Lucius was grasping his hips as the boy guided his cock into him. If the sight of his father's lips around his grandfather's cock had been entrancing, this was hypnotic. He simply couldn't look away. He found himself wishing he could touch them. Wondering what that tasted like.

And that was the thought that pulled him out of his trance. He shook his head. Lucius was dead. And this was wrong, wasn't it? Immoral. Illegal. He left the memory without waiting for the end this time, then bottled it like the first, and put the two at the back of the box, away from the rest. That done, he ran his fingers over the remaining bottles. So were they all like that, then? And if so, what was the message that Lucius was trying to tell him? What did he expect Scorpius to do with this knowledge?

In the days that followed, Scorpius spent a great deal of time thinking about what it all might mean. He didn't bother avoiding the chest, but brought it out each night to watch a memory or two, then watched until he could stand it no longer. Each was much like the others only age and location varying. And each viewing, he felt more and more drawn to them.

But whether it was because he knew Lucius was dead, or because of something else, he found himself watching own father more as the days drew on. Watching the way he moved under his father. The way he smiled, teased him. The love Scorpius could see in his eyes. He wanted to see it for himself. Not just a memory. He wanted to touch. To be touched. To see Draco smile at him that way.

By the last night of his vacation, he'd reached the final three memories. He still couldn't understand why he'd been gifted with these moments between his grandfather and father, or what he would do about it, but he'd reached the point where he couldn't seem to help himself. He just wanted to see more.

He'd also taken to the habit of entering the memories fully each time, now. The better to see and to hear what happened between them. The better to feel he was part of what they were doing. So that when he touched himself, made himself come to the memory of them, he could almost imagine they were watching him.

This time, when he slipped into the memory, the two were in Lucius's room. But immediately, he could see something was different. This time, he knew there would be no sex. Lucius was laying on his bed, covered by his blankets, and still shivering, despite the sunlight that was streaming into the room. Draco was sitting by his side, looking pale and drawn. Scorpius knew then when this must be. Sometime this past summer or early fall.

"Father, you should try to eat a bit more. Please."

Lucius shook his head. "I'm not hungry, Draco. I would not have this last any longer than it has to."

"There must be a cure, father! The healers have to be lying!"

"Draco, we have discussed this. It is time. I have fought it long enough."

"No…" Draco's voice cracked on the word, and Scorpius almost gave in to the need to turn away and allow his father privacy, even as he wondered just how long they had known Lucius had been ill. They had only told Scorpius that summer. Still, something told him to keep watching. "Father, please…"

"It is over. I just wish it to end. Now, let it lie."

"But…what will I do without you here, father?"

"You have not talked to Scorpius?" The way Lucius asked, it sounded as though they had had this discussion before.

"I can't, father. He's…a child!"

"Older than you were." Scorpius's eyes widened at the words, his heart speeding up. He couldn't mean…? Surely not.

"That was different."

"It is not, Draco. He adores you the same way you did me."

"He is not…how I was. I would rather he be happy, and…"

Lucius reached out to stroke his hair. "Draco…what can it hurt? You will need…something…when I am gone."

So, this, then, was the message of the bottles. Lucius didn't trust his son to ask for what he needed. And now that Scorpius knew… He didn't bother staying any longer in the memory. He had to find his father. To show him he understood. That he could, and did, want him. He emerged from the memory, then packed it away distractedly, and turned to leave the room, and jumped at the sight of Draco, standing only a few steps away, silent and still, his eyes haunted.

After a moment where the two stood and stared at each other, the moment stretching out between them, millions of questions rising unbidden to Scorpius’s tongue, then discarded as unnecessary. Finally, after what felt an eon, Scorpius did what he had wanted to do since he had arrived home: he moved towards his father and hugged him.


End file.
